


a study in kisses

by rosastairs



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, Kissing, They get interrupted a lot, bisexual emma - Freeform, borderline smut but not really, but it’s not like hardcore smut if that makes sense, emma’s a power bottom I don’t make the rules, heated making out, neck kisses, pansexual cristina, rosastairs, semi canon, they have sex last chapter, they’re horny mkay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosastairs/pseuds/rosastairs
Summary: the five times Emma and Cristina distracted each other— and the five times they were interrupted while doing so





	1. burn me up

Cristina stared at Emma’s closet. The strings connecting pieces of paper exactly like a murder board in a detective show. The photos of what must have been Emma’s parents jumped out at her, the spindly runes covering pale bloated skin.

Emma sighed and Cristina glanced at her. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, leaving pale crescents in the pink flesh.

“Emma this is honestly kind of…” Cristina searched for the right word, “...worrying? Are you good?”

Emma took a deep breath and ran her hand through the curling blonde hair at the base of her neck. “Yeah I’m good, it’s been a while since they died.”

Cristina wasn’t convinced, but she let it rest. If Emma wanted to talk, she would. Cristina reached out a single finger and touched the blue string that connected the photo of the man they’d found in the alley and the photo of Emma’s father.

She heard Emma suck in a quick breath. A sudden pressure on her arm pulled Cristina away from the gruesome pictures. Emma was spinning her around. Cristina glimpsed a sliver of the bedroom behind Emma, the desk with Cortana propped against it, the unmade bed.

And then Emma was kissing her. Hot and desperate. Cristina froze for only a second before responding eagerly to the sudden change in mood, her hands winding up to grasp Emma’s shoulders tentatively. She hadn’t ever thought about kissing Emma, but she found that it was something she’d always wanted to do in her deepest, most hidden, dreams.

Emma tasted like chocolate. _Of course she does._ Cristina thought, giggling a little against Emma’s mouth. At the sound of Cristina’s laughter Emma murmured something unintelligible and pulled her closer.

Their bare feet made muffled scuffling sounds on the carpet. Emma’s hands were tracing burning trails up and down Cristina’s side, fingers pressing against hot skin. Cristina let out a faint moan that Emma swallowed, eagerly slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Cristina’s knees stopped working and she fell to the ground, hands tugging Emma down on top of her. They landed with a contained crash against the closet wall.

Cristina pulled away, searching Emma’s face, which was crinkled in amusement. They were so close that Cristina could see each of Emma’s eyelashes, each of the gold flecks in her coffee brown eyes.

“Are you laughing at me?” She teased. Emma shifted forward and Cristina became uncomfortably aware of the way Emma was straddling her. Heat flared in the pit of her stomach, hot and bright and wanting.

Emma’s hot breath brushed against the shell of her ear as Emma whispered, “I’d never dare laugh at you.” Cristina couldn’t see her face, but she could feel Emma grinning. She tugged the back of Emma’s shirt up and ran her hand over the small of her back, trailing her fingers around to press against Emma’s stomach, tracing circles on the soft skin.

Emma arched and made a needy noise in the back of her throat. Her eyes were dark with desire as she grabbed Cristina’s wrists and pinned them against the wall with one hand. The papers that were taped there rustled.

They were both breathing hard, the heavy breaths peppered with the sounds of desperate kisses.

Emma’s lips were soft. Soft as she mouthed them along Cristina’s jaw, soft as she trailed them down Cristina’s neck and started to suck the sensitive skin into a bruise.

Cristina groaned low in the back of her throat and wrapped her legs tighter around Emma’s waist. Emma’s free hand moved lower to grip the waistband of Cristina’s jeans.

The institute’s booming doorbell rang. Emma and Cristina jolted apart, nails scratching, limbs bumping against each other awkwardly. Emma relinquished her hold on Cristina’s wrists.

“Dammit.” Emma said, her lips were swollen and dark red. Cristina couldn’t help but stare at them, tracing her own lips with her tongue. Emma’s gaze caught on Cristina’s mouth, her brown eyes still full of desire.

“We’d better go see who it is.” Cristina breathed. Her voice was husky. Emma sighed and stood, reaching out her hand to help Cristina up. Where their palms touched Cristina imagined a fire raging, consuming everything around them in a haze of burning desire.

“Of all the times.” Emma cursed as Cristina turned towards the door. She was still hyper aware of Emma behind her, electrocuting all her nerves.

A hand slapped her ass unexpectedly. Cristina squeaked and whirled around to see Emma smiling wickedly, her hair a mess where Cristina had wound her hands into it, the blonde strands forming a wild halo like a angels.

“Emma!”

Emma brushed past her, Cortana in her hand. “Come on princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was highkey rushed and I’m pretty shit at writing kisses, but um yeah, enjoy!


	2. trailing sunlight

“Do you think Julian’s acting weird?” Emma asked Cristina as she aimed a dagger at one of the targets painted against the training room wall.

“I don’t know what’s normal behavior for Julian.” Cristina replied. Emma turned her head to look at her. She was sharpening her butterfly knives, legs crossed, dark hair pinned up in a neat bun. Sunlight was slanting in through one of the tall windows, enveloping Cristina in a puddle of light, and making her brown skin glow.

“Yeah I guess you’ve only known him for about two days.” Emma let the dagger fly. It made a soft thud as it sunk into the target, two inches away from the bullseye. “Shit.” She muttered under her breath.

“Nice shot.” Cristina said dryly. Emma rolled her eyes. Cristina knew as well as she did that two inches could make all the difference when fighting.

Raising her middle finger in tasteful humor, Emma stalked to the target and yanked the dagger out from where it was embedded in the wood.   
  
She turned back towards Cristina, who had evidently finished her sharpening. She was leaning back on the palms of her hands, head tilted back, neck exposed. Emma could see the faint hickey that she had left on the vulnerable skin there.

Now uncomfortably hot, Emma crossed to where Cristina still sat, now with her eyes closed, absorbing the sunlight. Emma could pick out every tiny detail. The single dark brown curl that had escaped Cristina’s bun and curled lazily on the nape of her neck, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the wet part of her lips.

They hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had happened. Their friendship—could you call it friendship if you’d made out on your bedroom floor—had acquired an awkward tinge. And now the Blackthorns were back and Julian was acting weird. _Perfect._ Emma thought. _Just what I needed right now._

Wanting to take her mind off of the lingering cloud of mystery surrounding her parents deaths, Emma leaned over and kissed the fading hickey on Cristina’s neck.

Cristina tensed before relaxing, eyes still closed. She hummed encouragement, one hand coming up to grip the strap of Emma’s tank top, fingers brushing bare skin.

Their first kiss had been rushed, heated, a sloppy makeout on Emma’s bedroom floor. This kiss was nothing like that.

This kiss was lazy. This kiss was warm, and comforting, and wreathed in sunlight.

Cristina pressed butterfly kisses to Emma’s jaw, drawing lines of warmth under Emma’s skin wherever her lips touched. Emma wanted to dissolve into the moment, into the sensation of Cristina’s mouth on her pulse point.

Emma shifted and pulled Cristina down on top of her, deepening the kiss. She felt Cristina’s teeth scrape against her lower lip. The warped wooden boards of the training room pressed against her shoulder blades as Cristina’s weight settled on top of her.

Emma reached up and unpinned Cristina’s hair from it’s bun. The dark brown strands fountained down around Cristina’s face. Her hair smelled like coffee. Emma felt slightly intoxicated by the scent as she buried her hands in it.

Emma thought the sunlight might be seeping into her veins wherever Cristina’s hands touched her. The other girl was undoing her, slowly unspooling her bit by bit with each needy press of fingers, each warm kiss.

Cristina pulled away first, fervently glancing towards the training room door and trying to fix the wreck Emma had made of her hair. At first Emma couldn’t tell why she was pulling away, she still felt dazed, the memory of Cristina’s warm mouth still too fresh.

Then she heard the thumping of footsteps in the hallway outside. She leapt to her feet, dragging Cristina behind one of the punching bags. Cristina had managed to get her hair into a bun again, albeit a messy one. The cloth of the punching bag against Emma’s shoulder felt jarring after the soft brush of Cristina’s hands.

“I guess all of our kisses have to end with us being interrupted.” Emma joked, placing a hand on Cristina’s shoulder, not quite wanting to separate herself yet.

Cristina pressed a quick hot kiss to her mouth. Making a million little butterflies flutter behind Emma’s heart.

“If it means I still get to kiss you, I’ll take it.” Cristina whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know when I’ll be able to update again, but this’ll definitely be added to ~eventually~


	3. you’re a masterpiece

Cristina was sitting on a plush footstool patterned with ferns. Every time she moved the stool gave an alarmed creaking noise. She wondered how old it was, they were in an antique shop after all. An antique shop cluttered with knickknacks, tinkling music boxes and long dresses from another time.

“What about this?” Emma said, stepping out from behind a changing curtain. She was clad in a neon pink latex suit that clung tightly to every curve, almost like a second skin.

“You look like you’re going to be in a power ranger remake.” Cristina laughed, leaning forward to put her head in her palm, stool creaking in protest.

“Yeah the power ranger of camel toe.” Emma sighed, looking vaguely disappointed. “It’s not exactly inconspicuous for crashing The Guardian’s party either.”

Cristina held out the next gown, a creamy off white dress with tiny straps. Emma groaned in mock resistance and marched back behind the curtain.

A bell rang somewhere towards the front of the shop, signaling the arrival of another customer. Cristina examined the dress she’d picked out. The neckline was a bit lower than she was used to, but Emma had been adamant. _It makes your boobs look great._ If Cristina was completely honest with herself, that was all the confirmation she needed.

Emma stepped out from behind the curtain again. The white dress flowed down to her ankles, making her look like the ghost of a woman long dead, fated to roam a developing world in the garb of decades long past. But Emma looked too alive to be a ghost, her eyes bright, chest rising and falling, cheeks pink.

“Funeral colors.” Emma said.

The first time Cristina had been to a funeral she’d been ten years old. The body being burned had been her uncle. An uncle she hadn’t known very well, but an uncle just the same. She remembered him from family Christmas dinners, face flushed, head thrown back in laughter.

He was a stranger in death. Hands folded too carefully on top of his white silk suit, hair combed too neatly. Cristina remembered her mother making her wear a starched white dress for the occasion. She remembered rubbing wrinkles out of the fabric during the ceremony, stifled by grief that she barely understood.   
  
“Tina?” Emma voice drew her back to the present. “What’s up?”

Cristina found that she couldn’t answer. The image of her uncle’s burning body flashed in her minds eye.

She settled for pulling Emma close to her, gripping her upper arms and tugging her forward so that she was kneeling in front of her, head tilted up, lips parted expectantly.

Emma didn’t rise to meet her. She stayed still as Cristina lowered her mouth to hers. Cristina could have counted each of the tiny freckles on Emma’s nose. Emma smelled like the dust of old dresses, rosewood perfume, and the salt spray from the ocean.

Their lips brushed together inevitably. Emma’s lips parted and she raised her arms, wrapping them around Cristina in a comforting embrace, as if she never wanted to let her go.

The kiss lasted a lifetime. Each scrape of teeth spanned centuries. Each reassuring brush of hands against the small of Cristina’s back brought her closer to the constancy that was Emma.

The white fabric under Cristina’s hands rose and fell with each of Emma’s quickening breaths. The kiss was beginning to deepen, mouths slanting hotly against each other. Cristina lifted her hands to cup Emma’s face gently, gasping as Emma gripped her even tighter, as if she could meld them into one being.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Emma and Cristina jumped apart, Emma smoothing the wrinkled fabric of her dress to regain some dignity.

The girl who had interrupted them had brown hair clipped close to her scalp and a rather amused expression on her face.

Cristina stood in a panic, smiling awkwardly. She fumbled for her pink dress that had fallen to the carpet. Emma’s face was bright red and she seemed at a loss for words. The brown haired girl brushed past them to browse for clothes and Emma ducked hurriedly into the changing room to tug her regular clothes back on.

They managed to pay for the dresses, Emma still bright red and Cristina shaking from embarrassment and nervousness. After they’d heard the shop bell tinkle behind them like a cheerful fairy, Cristina cradled her head in her hands groaning.

Emma tossed their bags into the backseat carelessly, climbing into the drivers seat, long legs flashing skin. After a moment’s hesitation Cristina followed her lead, still mortified.


	4. the beat of your heart

Cristina could see the ocean from the roof. It crashed against the beach, leaving ridges of white foam on the damp sand. She could smell the desert, dry in contrast to the dark waves that stretched out in front of her as far as she could see.

The Centurions would be out on that ocean tomorrow, searching the endless waters for the black book, led by Zara. _Zara._ Cristina kicked her heels against the side of the institute in frustration. The thumping impact grounded her, cleared her head.

She should have known, but she couldn’t blame Zara for Diego being a two timing dirtbag, she didn’t know enough about the girl. Still, it hurt. Diego had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember, a steady fixture as she was growing up and discovering herself.

Cristina remembered the first time she’d seriously hurt herself while training. Little cuts were a common occurrence, but Cristina had almost severed her foot clean off when she’d fumbled a blade. She remembered the clean clear terror on a backdrop of pain. Diego had been there, steady and calm, ready with an iratze. Cristina needed to stop clinging onto the ghost of past Diego. He had changed, and so had she.

The feather light brush of footsteps alerted Cristina to someone else’s presence on the roof. She wiped her palm across her face, only half surprised to feel the wetness of tears.

Emma sat down on roof beside her. Her blonde hair was unbound and blew in the desert breeze like a flag of surrender. The warmth of her skin drew Cristina closer to her. Resting her head on Emma’s shoulder, Cristina sighed.

She felt Emma’s hand move up and gently rest in between her shoulder blades. The slight pressure was like an anchor.

“Hey babe,” Cristina heard Emma whisper softly. “It’s okay—well it’s not okay. I can’t believe the son of a bitch did that to you, but—you’re going to be okay.” Her voice was tight, filled with contained anger.

Cristina didn’t want to say anything. Emma wasn’t making her say anything, and for that she was eternally grateful. Words didn’t seem adequate for experiencing someone from your childhood rip themselves away.

Emma’s hair brushed Cristina’s cheek and then blew into her mouth. Out of nowhere she snorted with laughter, sitting up and pulling the strands from her mouth.

Confused, Emma moved her arm tighter around Cristina’s shoulders, pulling her closer. Filled with a sudden affection for Emma, in all her sarcastic glory, Cristina wrapped her right arm around her waist, hugging her so close that her forehead bumped against Emma’s collarbone.

They were chest to chest now. Cristina encased in a cocoon of Emma’s warmth. The taller girl rested her chin on Cristina’s head, she felt Emma inhale deeply.

The beat of Emma’s heart brought Cristina away from the mess in her mind. She could pretend that the only thing that existed was her and Emma, pressed together under the stars.

She was crying she knew. She didn’t know if it was from sadness, or loss, or happiness at having Emma so close. Her tears pooled onto Emma’s chest, glistening above the sprinkle of freckles in the hollow of Emma’s throat.

Before she knew what she was doing, before she could reason herself out of it, Cristina shakily kissed the skin where the tears had fallen. Emma hissed a sharp breath, one hand gripping the hair at the back of Cristina’s neck. They were so close Cristina could feel when Emma forgot to breathe.

She’d never given a hickey before. Her and Diego had only ever kissed. Cristina could taste the faint tang of sweat on Emma’s skin, left over from training. Emma’s chest rose and fell as she sighed, giving a soft needy moan when Cristina accidentally scraped her with her teeth. Nothing existed besides them and the stars, glowing brighter with each wanting sound Emma made.

The wave’s muffled roars went on and on and on, background music for their kiss. Emma cupped Cristina’s face and kissed the tracks left by her tears. They whispered promises to each other in breathy voices as the moon rose above them in a silver crescent.

If Cristina could live forever she thought she might want to spend it like this: With the brush of Emma’s lips on hers. With Emma’s hands buried in her hair. With Emma undoing her slowly for centuries.

The kiss was the only warm thing in the quickly cooling night. Goosebumps sprang up on Cristina’s arms as Emma’s hot mouth pressed another open kiss on her lips. She was distracted by the way Emma looked when she was kissing, eyes closed in perfect content.

A loud electrifying boom shook them. Rain began to pour down, soaking them in record time. Lightning crackled against the sky, followed by thunder that sounded like the hooves of the wild hunt.

“Shit.” Emma said. Her hair was dripping in wet ropes over her shirt which was pasted to her upper body. “Let’s get inside and we can finish this.”

Cristina heard the implication in her voice. She couldn’t answer, it was as if Emma had kissed the words out of her mouth. Her mind was still whirling with the feeling of Emma’s slick skin.

They stood, running from the storm to the shelter of the institute. As soon as they were inside—listening to the rain patter above them—Emma whirled to Cristina, laughing and lacing her fingers through hers.

Without warning, Emma’s face fell. Within seconds she tugged her hand away from Cristina’s. Cristina turned towards where Emma was looking.

Julian stood in the shadows, hands in his jean’s pockets. His eyes were unreadable. Cristina wondered how much he’d seen.

“Oh thank the angel,” Julian said, without much emotion. “I was just looking for you.”


	5. roses and gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Cristina and Emma share a bed in faerie instead of Emma and Julian 
> 
> ~consent is sexy kids~

The dresses the fae had given them were silky smooth. Emma still didn’t know why they needed sexy dresses for sleeping, but she wasn’t complaining. The gold fabric shifted comfortably as she paced across the worn stone floor, Cortana held loosely in her hand.

“Quit it you’re stressing me out.” Cristina said from the bed.

Yes, of course, in addition to sexy sleepwear, the faeries had given Emma and Cristina only one bed to share. The white sheets were immaculate, not a wrinkle on them.

“Okay mom.”

Huffing, Emma sauntered to the bed, sheathing Cortana, laying it beside her pillow, and flopping down behind Cristina.  
  
Cristina was sitting very still. Back straight, feet tucked in. She had one finger on her faerie pendant, drumming a steady beat against the medal.

Emma couldn’t see Cristina’s expression from where she lay, hair splayed against the now wrinkled sheets. She could see the smooth expanse of Cristina’s back from the slit in the blood red dress she was wearing. The brown skin a smooth expanse below Cristina’s black hair.

Water trickled in a fountain nearby. Emma could hear the faint sounds of faerie music, lilting and beckoning.

Cristina sighed, tilting her head forward. Her hair was unpinned, tumbling like a waterfall made of the night sky. Emma could see a faint scar on her back, a line that spoke of Cristina’s warrior nature. If she looked closely she could see the faint silvery marks of past runes. A permanent rune in stark black hovered between Cristina’s shoulder blades.

Slowly. Deliberately, Emma put her finger to it, running her finger lightly down Cristina’s back until it rested on the thin scar. Lightly she traced over it. Again. And again. And again.

“How did you get this?” Emma asked, dropping her voice. Cristina had turned her head, eyes widening for a split second before relaxing into the touch.

“Demon attack. A friendly arrow just nicked me.”

Emma moved her hand a bit lower. “Wow that must have been terrifying.”

She watched Cristina inhale sharply before replying. “Yeah it was, just a bit.” Cristina was starting to get bothered, shifting ever so slightly closer.

Cristina turned her entire body towards Emma, making her remove her hand from her back. Her eyes were dark. _Soulful eyes._ Emma’s father would have once said.

“Do you want to?” Coming from Cristina the words meant a lot. They both knew how important consent was.

Emma laced her hands through Cristina’s. She could feel the callouses on Cristina’s fingers. Each point where their hands connected sent a thrum of electricity into Emma’s veins.

“Yes.” She murmured. “But if you get uncomfortable at any point just tell me okay? And I’ll stop.”

Cristina nodded, hands coming up to tug at the straps of Emma’s dress. Their lips slanted together, soft at first, then more desperate. Emma kissed and kissed, focusing on the sound Cristina made when she moved her tongue a certain way.

They fell onto the sheets, Emma propping herself on her elbows over Cristina. Knee wedged between her thighs.

She traced a hand down Cristina’s chest, down to where Cristina’s dress had hiked up above her waist.

Cristina kissed her as if her life depended on it. Emma’s hand trailed lower and lower, Cristina gasped and moaned out something that sounded like a plea when Emma drew constellations on her inner thighs.

They were so close now. Chest to chest, mouth to mouth. They were burning brighter than the sun. The room was filled with the sounds of running water and shaking gasps that echoed off the walls.

Emma kissed her way down Cristina’s throat, down her rising chest, down the red folds of fabric. Cristina twined one hand into Emma’s hair, gripping the bedsheets with the other.

She was trying so hard to be quiet, Emma could tell. But there was only so much you could do. Cristina shook with the effort, mouth falling open in a soundless cry.

The heavy oak door to the cave banged open. Emma sat up from between Cristina’s brown legs. Sweat clung to both of them, shining at Cristina’s temples and in the hollow of her throat.

Julian stood in utter shock at the edge of the room. Cristina panted and sat up, pulling her dress down to cover herself from unwanted eyes. Her eyes nervously darted between Emma and Julian.

“Can I talk to you Emma?” Julian asked, voice tight with something like rage. Emma felt defiant.

She stood, wiping her mouth and followed Julian into the hall, closing the door behind her. 

The hall was lit by only a few lights. Julian paused under one of them and turned to glare at her.

“What?” Emma asked, feigning innocence.

“What?” Julian’s voice was low. “I’ve been off figuring out how to break the parabatai curse and you’ve been banging Cristina!” He gestured angrily at the door.

“Yes I was off having sex while you were wasting your time!” Emma snarled. “I don’t want to break the parabatai curse Julian! Or have you forgotten?”

Julian’s eyes were unreadable. “Fine then.” He said, leaving no room for retort. “Fine. Go back to your girlfriend.”

Bitter rage swelled in Emma’s stomach. “I will.” She snapped at ‍Julian’s retreating back. How had things gone bitter so fast? She could still taste Cristina and now her parabatai was walking away from her.

She took a deep breath and opened the door to her room. Cristina was still on the bed, asleep, one hand still fisted in the blankets by her head. At the sight of her sleeping body Emma felt herself relax. She curled up beside Cristina, draping an arm over her waist. Cristina muttered something unintelligible and moved closer. Emma’s heart filled with affection.

Tomorrow was a new day, and as long as she had Cristina by her side, Emma could handle anything.


End file.
